Desperation
by TheAlmightyCupcake
Summary: Chase, an inexperienced man that hadn't gone out much, spent most of his time doing one thing. Trying to please House, his new lover and also the man who beats him. And Wilson can do nothing but watch his love interest turn into a frail and battered person that his former friend created . CHASE ANGST! Rate M sexual content/strong imagery
1. Chapter 1

It was a Monday- which meant that it was finally snowing like the forecast said it would, 5 days until the milk in the fridge expired, and exactly one week after Chase started dating House. It was not like Wilson was purposefully keeping tabs on them; he had just always been the observant one. Even though everyone had some sort of idea of how screwed up Gregory House was, no one had ever witnessed his psychological or physical torture first hand. No one but Wilson knew the inevitable truth that was soon to come.

He will hurt Chase.

* * *

A romantic evening. What on earth was that supposed to mean? Chase pondered what House could have meant until his cell phone's ringing dragged him out of his thoughts.

It was Wilson, one of his closest friends. He had met him around the time that he had met House. In fact, Wilson was the one that introduced him to House. During his first long day at the hospital and he got lost. Wanting to ask for directions, he stumbled into Wilson's room in order to find out where to go.

"Hello." Chase's mind was on too many things to come up with a better conversation starter. They talked for a few minutes until House walked back into the room smile fading as he looked at Chase. He interrupted the conversation momentarily and looked at House who was currently buying a shopping bag.

"Hold on. Do you want to talk to him? He's right here." Chase stood up and offered the cellular device to House which was met with him shutting it off immediately without even looking at it.

"Oh well, conversation was getting kind of bland anyway," Chase said with a humorous indifference to it. House eyed him as he put the cell phone up.

"What?" Chase asked.

"I leave for 5 minutes to go buy something and you already start entertaining yourself with someone else on the phone?" House asked. He didn't sound irritated just yet. He just sounded staggered.

"Well it's not like I asked Wilson to call. Plus—," Chase was cut off.

"Wilson? Since when has Wilson been giving you secret phone calls at night?" House inquired.

"It's… not that big of a deal House," Chase chuckled.

"Not that big of a deal?" House repeated nonchalantly. Or rather it was his attempt to sound nonchalant.

"How many times does he usually call you?"

Chase rolled his eyes. "House really? This is pointless."

"You're accent isn't gonna get you out of this one wombat. Answer the question."

When House continued to stare at him blankly Chase sighed and finally answered. "He barely calls me. This was the first time in a long time. Happy?"

Another stare.

"What, you don't trust me? I mean we should start trustin' each other." Chase then jokingly he added. "Anyways what did you mean by a romantic evening? Does it have anything to do with what's in the bag?"

House nodded once, his face expressionless and hard to read. It had always intimidated Chase a little. He wasn't the best at reading body language but House's was more mysterious than most. He had yet to understand what House's reactions were to certain situations.

House walked up to Chase and grabbed him by his chin, leaning over for a kiss. House shrugged off his jacket and shirt while removing the ones on chase, who was so caught up in the moment that he hadn't realized House bringing both of his hands to the front between them.

Chase heard a snap and his hands were heavy. He felt the cold metal on his skin and though the handcuffs were a little loose, it was still hard to move in them. He looked up at House, obviously nervous.

"Come on," House whispered with a little snicker. "I know how kinky you are."

Chase blushed at House's statement. It was something that Chase admitted to House a couple of times but he hadn't expected him to actually comply with it. Chase had always fantasies of how things would be like to be roughed up a bit but it wasn't something he was ready to do at the moment. At least not yet. It was then that House realized his nervous look in which he responded in with a slight grin, obviously taking it at something he looked forward to.

"You don't trust me?" House said mockingly in a tone that resembled Chase's when he asked the question.

"That's not what I meant," Chase whispered defensively. "I just think that this is a little…" The fiery look House's eyes were getting was startling. He gulped and choked out "…soon."

"You said we needed to work on our trust," House said obviously mocking Chase's earlier statement about the phone conversation he had had with Wilson before they started. "So why not start by trusting me with your body?" There was something ominous in his tone and his gaze was intense; it never left Chase's eyes or body for a second, even as House shrugged off his own shirt and whenever Chase looked away, he could feel it burning through him.

This made Chase very anxious but he shrugged it off as him being nervous. After all, he'd never done anything like this before.

House roughly pulled Chase against his own lips into a scorching kiss that broke the skin off his bottom lip. Crimson tears dripped down the side of Chase's mouth who let out a slight whimper from the pain. House pulled him in again as Chase groaned against his lips. Their bodies' movements were subconscious while they kissed, making the pressure against Chase's back from the wall surprising. House pushed his body harder against his, forcing Chase to breathe harder.

Chase couldn't tell whether he was feeling overwhelmed or embraced. He could tell that House was enjoying it so he became too scared and enthralled to really protest. However he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't something that he wanted or that House had Chase's interests in mind.

House grabbed Chase's quivering body and bumped against his growing erection, grounding their hips together tightly, gnawing on his neck. He only let up to turn Chase's body around as his long fingers then ran up the blonde man's torso to pull at his nipples, teasing them back and forth into hardness. Chase let out a moan.

"Doesn't take a lot to turn you on does it?" House muttered with a sigh as he threaded his fingers through Chase's hair. Chase tensed when he sensed the inquiry had a slight accusatory tone to it. His own back muscles contracted as the grip in his hair tightened to an unbearable amount, making his eyes began to water. "I never liked your hair at this length."

"House…" Chase tried his best to stifle his panic but his whimpers gave it away. He felt that everything was going too fast.

Suddenly, House got off of him and Chase inhaled sharply and turned around, leaning against the wall weakly and he caught his breath. House, still having . "You can't be tired yet."

"House, I think we should take things slow—" Chase was instantly cut off.

"Don't bitch to me," House snapped. "I wasn't the one who looked this kind of shit up on the internet just to get my rocks off to it."

Chase was instantly embarrassed. He told personally things like that to House in confidence when they were starting to get serious. It was just something he felt that he should share and even though no one was around, he felt mortified at House screaming it at him, as if condemning him for sharing such dark fantasies. The fact that Chase was standing there, naked and with handcuffs, just added to the humiliation.

Who knows, maybe he was being too nervous and overreacting. But he was at least expecting House to understand his point of view and listen to what he had to say. He just didn't want to take it too far to the point of feeling real pain. He opened his mouth again to speak was stopped instantly when he saw the blank glazed stare in House's eyes which made him well aware that any words he would say would slide right past him.

"Against the wall." The harsh words broke the awkward silence.

"What?" Chase choked out, his body tensing up even more.

"You heard what I said. This isn't necessarily the right time to play dumb."

Chase went back to the wall resting his forehead on it and though he gave up on saying anything to protest, he still had some hope left. House wouldn't just keep going if his cries represented true pain would he? Or maybe he would mistake one for the other.

House came from behind, caressing his slowly inching his hands lower until they reached Chase's backside. He squeezed them and proceeded to rub them. Then suddenly he smacked them with his hand. Chase's body had lit up, every inch of his skin hyperaware of every sensation, because he was waiting for more of the pain to come. He bit down on his already injured lip to try to lower the impending whimpers and screams.

House continued to spank him. It wasn't gentle; it wasn't tender. And Chase felt no pleasure from the harsh blows.

"Greg!"

"Mm, yeah keep screaming my name like that," he breathed onto Chase's neck.

Another pause came—and then the pain on his backside got worse. He turned around quickly to see House's belt coiled around his hand like a whip, with the buckle dangling, reading to move at his will.

"Greg please—," Chase was cut off by his own whimpering.

"I don't understand why you were so nervous," House growled, pausing the hits to complete his sentence. "Your body doesn't seem all that scared. Looks like you're already twitching for more." Chase said nothing. He only pressed his face harder at the wall, pondering hopelessly if his heart was racing from fear or the anticipation.

The blows continued but not only on his bum; House moved his hits sometimes to the back of his thighs or to his upper back. Each blow made him quiver and made Chase make up his mind. He didn't like this. He didn't like this at all. Each hit crushed his ego making him feel small and helpless. He wanted to feel embraced, not punished. Chase's whimpers began to become more intense and his chest burned with the effort he used trying to keep the tears at bay. To cry in front of House would be a lot more humiliating than being handcuffed or spanked by him. Admitting the pain would be even worse.

But before he had even had a chance to ponder whether or not he should admit such, the blows had stopped. Now resting his head against the wall rather than shoving it, Chase relaxed and sighed, wiping off the few tears that managed to come out onto his right shoulder.

Now, cool fingers circled the back of his neck, pressing his face against the wall again in a vice grip and House dipped down to spread the blonde man's cheeks with the other had. Was House going to take him right then and there? _This_ was going to be how their first time?

House traced a finger around Chase's entrance, occasionally dipping it in to see the other man's reaction. Chase, so unused to feeling such sensations, clenched his cheeks and gasped. House spit on his finger and shoved it inside, not giving Chase a warning. Chase let out a groan but he couldn't decide whether he liked this new feeling or not.

Then suddenly, something else was shoved in his backside. He had heard many rumors that this type of feeling would hurt, but the feeling of House's penetration exceeded his expectations. Chase's arms wiggled against the restraints the handcuffs gave him. His scream stuck to his throat and his eyes rolled back into his head. His mouth was ajar empty of words but dripped with salivation. It hung open for more intakes from the immense pain and pressure being acted on his body. House's hand snaked around his neck, grasping his throat harshly. He stuck a finger in Chase's mouth and Chase could feel the House's smile at the wetness of his finger.

"Such a dirty mouth," House joked. He pulled whatever it was inside Chase out and shoved it in again as deep as it could go. This time he did it slowly; the pain wasn't as intense.

"House," Chase managed to wheeze out. "Stop! I can't…"

Chase stopped talking for two reasons. The first being his dizziness form lack of air, the second being the sentence being cut off by the screams that emanated from his diaphragm when House started shoving the thing in and out again relenting only when he himself was tired of moving his arm. And once he rested it, he put his other hand against Chase's dripping erection.

"Looky here!" he called out. "Seems like you're enjoying it a lot more than you're letting on cause you're dripping all over," he mused, fisting Chase's leaking erection tightly. "You really are kinky if you like the feeling of a cane up your ass."

Those words made Chase's heart skip a beat. "Your…?"

He couldn't even inquire his question before being bombarded with the thrusts again. If the spanking hadn't done a number on his ego, this certainly did the trick. He was being penetrated—fucked with some inanimate object and was made to think that this is what he wanted. He hated it. It would be a lot easier to cope with if his body hadn't betrayed his contemplation. He was fully erect and dripping with pre cum. He hadn't even realized that he was still hard until House groped his cock again. In his mind the burning coils in his stomach were attributed to his desperation and pain.

Not holding back this time, Chase wept.

When it was all over—when Chase climaxed eventually, House stood there and watched Chase as he sank into the floor. His head was held low so House wouldn't see him cry, even though it was obvious from his quivering and other noises he made.

"I-I told you to stop." Chase had said as House walked away. House didn't react to his sentence except for the little pause in his limp before he opened the door to the hallway.

House hadn't taken the cane out, leaving chase with the painful task of pulling it out by himself. It was then that he noticed that there was blood…so much blood. That's why the cane's thrust became slightly smoother. His blood acted as some type of lubricant. With clenched teeth and watery eyes Chase finally got the strength to stand up again. He didn't know why he felt so heavy all of a sudden. Was it from post orgasmic sensations or was his humiliation weighing him down? Either way it made his legs shake. There were so many question that the young Aussie inquired to himself as he made his way to the bathroom.

Why had it cause him so much pain? Did House want the best for him? Did House know that it was painful or was his cries something that seemed like it fit the situation? Wasn't it his fault for having such fantasies in the first place? Or maybe he just didn't care. He hurt, he cried, he bled.

He didn't even know what he wanted anymore.

No temperature he put the shower's water on helped with the pain. The cold water made his fresh welts feel like icicle fingers dragging across his back while the hot water made them burn. There was no warm water in the apartment. It was either cold or hot. Something about the pipes that the previous people couldn't figure out or something House never bothered to figure out.

* * *

When he got out of the shower, he looked at his phone and found out he had 3 missed calls. All from Wilson.

**Hey! An apology to those that read the other chapters before i decided to make this the first one...I thought this would add more suspense. I would also like to notify that chase's angst is not simply written for the hell of it. I want it to be emotional and if i do not deliver on that, please let me know what i can do to change that. thank you and have a nice day :). A thank you to the first three reviwers especially the most recent one. She actually gave me insight on some revisions on the first chapter to make it less confusing for the rest of the story**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey Everyone! i'm glad you clicked on this story and gave it chance. Keep in mind that this will be updated IN A FEW DAYS so don't worry. Just please take into consideration the few details revealed in the first few chapters. Thank you :)**

Wilson had always hated dreaming. Cheerful dreams gave him false hope and an empty feeling by the time he woke up. This, however was a much better thing to face during the first waking moments than the anxiety that flowed through his veins when recounting the hideously specific details of his nightmares, the most recent being about Chase. Maybe such a dream was triggered by the abrupt way their phone called ended last night. Maybe it was the way he had called the most social person in the hospital only to have three of his calls missed. He knew something was wrong, and his dark thoughts manifested its way into his dreams. He tried to shake off the vivid imagery that crawled his way back into his thoughts when trying to focus elsewhere. It wasn't the actual images that frightened him. It was the proximity of how close something like that was bound to happen. It was the probability of House actually hurting Chase that way. A harsh thing to think about his former friend, yes, but he wasn't going to deny it any longer.

Gregory House was a monster.

* * *

Wilson drove in his car with the windows down. Though the cold Jersey weather stung his face, it felt a lot better worrying about the flushed color it would give him than the reality that took place in House's apartment. Because at least for this moment he would try to forget about it without feeling guilty. Because the bitter cold would not make him the only one that was suffering.

Now, he couldn't really confirm this yet but he wasn't stupid nor ignorant to what he was capable of. No one could walk up to James Wilson and tell him how he was overreacting to the whole situation, even though they would have good reasons of suspicion to suspect that he was being melodramatic. He had feelings for Chase, yes, and his and House's relationship happened to be the first stepping stone to the demise of Wilson and House's friendship, but Wilson held no grudge against Chase to the extent of purposefully trying to break the new pairing apart for no reason. He wanted Chase to be happy and he may be during the first few weeks if lucky days of the relationship.

Yes, he had strong feelings for the Aussie, but that alone was not the only reason Wilson ran by. Wilson had seen House torture someone else . Wilson knew that his former friend had the ability to psychologically torture anyone that was near him, especially those whom fell head over heels for him. However, the physical damage he caused was just as bad; he would make it seem like he meant no harm. He would make them think that they wanted it or that they deserved it. Hell, maybe the fact that Wilson's mind was always on House to the point where it affected his dreams could be a prime example of such.

He shook those dark thoughts away. Things were bad yesterday, yes- and the nightmare he had hadn't helped much either- but he could at least look forward to seeing Chase's face once entering the building. That alone, would be enough solace for him for the time being. As he parked into his reserved spot and walked out of the car, he found himself quite quick paced and was surprised at how eager he was to see Chase. Maybe it was because he needed to have the definite knowledge that he was okay, rather than cheap shots of persuasive denial his mind always played.

When he walked near the diagnostics room where their team usually resided, an abrupt thought made him pause beside it momentarily. He came up here with the desire to see Chase, but what if he was in there as well? What if House was in there to greet him with a snicker and smart ass comment-comments he once found amusing before finding out the terrible things one like him was capable of. He couldn't stand seeing House next to him, let alone in the same room. And now he was going to charge in there, stare awkwardly at the people who stayed in there and walk out?

Wilson then realized that he was breathing hard. Was he walking up here faster than he realized or was it the nervousness coursing through his veins and on his skin that made him need to take him more breath? No longer wanting to hesitate despite the results that may come, Wilson walked over to the entry and opened the door.

The room wasn't really surprised to see him there, in fact they acted like it was nothing they should pay any of their attention to. "Where is Chase?" Wilson asks, trying to sound less frantic than he already was. The look on his face was one anxiety. That, he couldn't hide. The posture of his body was one of exhaustion. His awkward frame was met with confused glances of House's diagnostic room once the question was announced. The bodies shifted uncomfortably with the absence of Chase's and one other person: House. Just as Wilson feared. His breathing quickened even more than it was before. "I said where is he?"

The doctors of the room exchanged worried glances, not knowing how to answer. Foreman, who pitied the man that stood at the doorway finally decided to answer. "We don't know. Maybe he's sick with a fever or somethin' Wilson. I'm pretty sure that he'll be back in work by tomorrow."

Foreman stood up from his seat and slowly made his way over to Wilson, who was starting to act more and more distraught with every passing second. "How about you relax and we'll—."

His sentence was abruptly cut off by Wilson's harsh whisper. "Don't lie to me."

Foreman, taken aback by the accusation tensed up. "Wilson—."

"Don't lie to me you bastard." This statement was enough to surprise the room and everyone had their own way of trying to avoid such a confrontation. Cameron's was biting her lip or the tip of her pen as she pretended to read a potential patient's paper.

"Look Wilson—," his attempts at comforting came in vain as he was cut off yet again.

Wilson inched closer to Foreman and grabbed his collar, shoving him against the glass door. "You know where he really is. You know the actual reason why he isn't here. Don't you dare try and play dumb while you sit here and go about the situation!" His eyes were more watery and his fingers shook more with despair than of rage as he held his weight against Foreman, who refused to fight back and submitted at the defeating realization that he could no longer avoid the truth.

"Wilson calm down," Cameron finally said something. "That was what House told us to tell you, and anyone who asked," Cameron said innocently. Of course she didn't know. She had no way of knowing. He dismissed her statement.

Wilson took Foreman outside the room. His emotions were now finally showing through as he croaked. "Do you even care?"

Wilson's eyes bore into Foreman's who sighed. "I know," Foreman sighed. "But I'm pretty sure that he's okay."

Wilson dismissed the statement as a sad attempt to show necessary sympathy for the moment. He wasn't hurt and if he was it was in no way close to the level that Wilson was. Foreman hadn't made any attempts to tell Chase what was expected when he was in a relationship with someone like House even though he very much knew.

And no one else had a nightmare the previous night of Chase's body lying on his apartment's hard wood floor with House's cane shoved down his throat.

**Hope you liked! please give me your feedback on what I should do...the story gets even more and more violent. Lol can't help it...I'm a lover of angst.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Last revision was made today you guys :). The story is no flowing the way I want it to. PLEASE REVIEW**

The day went by slow for Wilson and he was finally glad to know that it was time for him to leave. Nearly exiting the building, Wilson was surprised to see Chase, with a heavy jacket on, leaning his head against the front of a drink vending machine. He seemed to be slightly tapping his forehead against the glass. Oddly enough, as Wilson inched closer, he realized that Chase was mumbling to himself. He could make out a few swear words and inquiries to himself.

"Chase?" Wilson asked a bit surprised and relieved at the same time. There were millions of questions Wilson wanted to ask at that very moment. What was he doing here at this time of night? Are you alone? Are you coming tomorrow? His mind profusely poured a number of questions he's been dying to ask him all day. The darker questions, however, laid at bay in his mind. He dared not ask Chase because he didn't want to see him upset after not meeting with him for a long time.

While he was thinking of what to say, he realized how awkward he had made this particular encounter. He had called Chase's name, walked up to him, and greeted the poor man with awkward staring for about five minutes. It was by this time that he realized that Chase had been staring at him as well, head still rested on the vending machine. For how long, Wilson didn't know. But he wanted to make his intentions seem casual despite his true purposes. Wilson regained his composure and then decided to ask the most appropriate question for the current situation.

"Why were you banging your head against the vending machine?" He tried to make his tone sound playful, which was something Wilson was really bad at. You don't exactly need a playful tone when informing someone that he or she had cancer, so he was usually serious, doubtful, or sympathetic in his tone. Regardless, he tried his best not to intimidate nor interrogate Chase. Those are things he did with House.

"The soda… s'one fifty." He said with an exasperated tone.

Wilson looked down at Chase's hands. There was a half eaten Butterfinger chocolate bar along with four pennies and a nickle in his left hand. The other was rubbing the back of his medium length blonde hair. Wilson noticed a red marking braceleted around his wrist but he refused to ask what caused it. He was pretty sure that he didn't want to know. Chase looked tired. No, tired wasn't the right word for it. Chase looked worn out and fatigued. Wilson realized that Chase was leaning against the vending machine more because his physical state of energy at the moment rather than frustration. Regardless, Chase still smiled at Wilson's presence; his smile was weak but it was a smile nonetheless and that was all that Wilson wanted.

Wilson looked at the small letters at the vending machine: one twenty five.

"I thought I had another quarter," Chase said with a defeated laugh. And even though he was obviously exhausted he was still able to make Wilson warm with his cute Australian accent.

Wilson reached into his pocket and gave him another quarter to help Chase out with the situation which the blonde man accepted without hesitation. With more clicks on the buttons of the vending machine, Chase pulled out a Gatorade and opened it quickly. Wilson was astounded by the younger man's determination to make a meal from vending machine items. Was he really that hungry? Surely he didn't come to the hospital at eight o'clock at night just to eat junk food. This thought led Wilson to his next question.

"What are you doing here at this time of night?" Wilson asked more out of empathy than curiosity. Chase looked like crap. His skin was paler and there were dark circles under his slightly swollen eyes.

At first it seemed like Chase wasn't going to answer as his blink lasted longer than normal but then he straightened his posture after taking a last bite of the Butterfinger and then said, "I missed work today." –that Wilson already knew. "I was hoping to catch Cuddy to give her an explanation before her leaving time."

"The explanation being…?" Wilson inquired, trying to put a playful tone to it again but with a failed attempt.

Chase said, "fever," as if he hadn't felt like going into detail of his absence. Or maybe because he couldn't make up any details to his excuse at the moment.

Great. Now he was giving the same damn story that Foreman had given earlier. "Cuddy has already left." Wilson said quite irritated but trying now to show it. More disappointed than anything. Why couldn't Chase just tell him what was happening to him? "You can tell her tomorrow morning."

"Yeah..." Chase replied. His tone and facial expression gave Wilson an inference that he was not planning on coming over to the hospital the next day as well. Chase seemed to notice and changed the subject. "Where are you headed to now?" he asked.

"I was just gonna go take some takeout. You want some?"

"I don't have any money," Chase admitted.

"I'll pay for it," he said almost immediately after, smiling at the innocence of Chase's confession.

After a long pause and one long moment of hesitation, Chase finally answered with a single nod. He followed Wilson outside into the bone chilling weather followed by squeaking of the hospital's tiled floor. Wilson looked down at Chase's shoes. That's must be the reason why Chase looked so tired. He had walked to the hospital…in the cold and snowy weather he walked.

Wilson drove into the restaurant, ordered what they wanted, and decided to eat in the car to make Chase stay in the car for as long as possible. Chase rarely talked the whole time. In fact, he seemed pretty nervous and had finished his meal a lot faster than usual. Wilson shrugged it off as him being hungry from lack of food which was something he couldn't prove because he wasn't with him all day. Wouldn't he have had time to eat at the apartment? He knew that House wasn't the best at keeping up with food in the apartment they both lived in but Chase was somehow hindered to do so.

"You hadn't eaten?" Wilson asked.

Chase shook his head. "I was really nauseous. I'm actually surprised that I can keep this down."

That night Wilson felt his soul fill with warmth as he helped Chase out, but was filled with dread as he watched their paths diverge. Knowing that Chase had walked the lengthy route to his and House's apartment made him upset. Chase had refused to accept a car ride there. That night Wilson couldn't sleep. The unconscious solace was something he didn't want to break with another nightmare that was sure to come.

* * *

**UPDATE IN FEW DAYS**


	4. Chapter 4

Chase hadn't showed up for work the next day. Nor the day after that. Nor the day after that. It wasn't until Friday, right at the border of Wilson's insanity, that he saw the blonde haired man in the hospital. Wilson had been expecting the worst. He had expected Chase to show up with bruises and cuts. But he appeared quite different. He looked fine.

In fact, he had looked a lot better than just fine. He looked happy. Most of the day he laughed and joked around with doctor Cameron as well as the other doctors. Wilson had worried about what would become of the Aussie while away from the hospital—in House's grip.

It made Wilson feel relieved.

After work, the doctors headed out for a couple of drinks at a nearby bar.

Foreman, Cameron, Wilson and Chase all sat around a four seated table. Wilson was the first to leave. He said he was tired and that he needed to get some sleep. Cameron had left to go to the restroom—at least that's was her excuse to go flirt with one of the other guys that kept eyeing her across the bar.

Wilson was now stuck with Chase; the man couldn't stop giggling from the smallest things because he wasn't as used to alcohol. The others even had to pick out a drink for him. They attempted to make sure that he didn't drink too much but Foreman and Cameron both left before realizing that one small glass bottle could make someone like Chase drunk.

Wilson was nervous. He was alone with Chase and that was something that mad him anxious. Wilson pulled at his shirt collar, trying to cool the heat rising to his face as Chase's full attention was on him.

"You guys come here a lot?" He asked smiling slightly.

Chased laughed. "The water."

"The…water?" Wilson asked a little puzzled.

"The freaking water." Chase put the glass down. "S'either comes out ice cold or boiling hot. Never warm."

Wilson remembered when he used to live with House. He still hadn't fixed it? "Yeah I know what you mean.

"You have that type of problem in your apartment too?"

"No." Wilson admitted, "Actually, I used to live there."

"Really?!" Chase exclaimed…a little too loud. It wasn't uncommon for that to happen in a bar so no one looked their way. Chase's eyes were big in awe and the fact that he was so astonished made Wilson smile.

He laughed. "I hadn't realized that I never told you."

"That's great! That's really reeeally great. And cool." Chase giggled. "So…why'd you leave?"

"I decided to leave when he and Foreman started dating." That slipped out of Wilson's mouth before he realized what he was saying. He looked up to examine Chase's reaction.

Chase didn't seem to care at all. Well not necessarily carelessness. It just seemed like he didn't hear it; he seemed to zone right out at the moment he said the sentence.

Wilson continued. "Plus, House is a complete psychopath."

Chase widened his eyes once again. Wilson had tried to make it sound like a joke but he failed.

"What do you mean?" Chase tone sounded a little more sobered.

"He just does things to hurt people." Wilson said.

Chase nodded once and blinked slowly. It wasn't a nod of understanding—just a nod.

A moment of awkward silence passed between them. It was then that Cameron came back. "Hey you guys I have to go." When she saw Wilson's surprised she said, "Don't worry I'm not going off for a one night stand." She winked at him and walked off.

"Can you believe her?" Wilson chuckled. "First thing she says after abandoning us is a sex joke."

After a long moment of silence Chase burped out, "I don't like sex."

He set his drink down again. Why did he say something like that so abruptly? Maybe the alcohol was starting to get to him as well.

"What…do you mean?" Wilson asked. The statement had made him feel uncomfortable yes, but he was still curious as to why Chase felt like it.

Then Chase, still not sober from the drinks looked around dramatically as if he was about to reveal a big secret that would bring him much shame. "It hurts." He hiccupped and then continued, "It hurts a lot."

"Why do you feel that way?"

Chase gave the impression that he was not going to say it. His movements became slower and he focused his eyes on one spot on the table opposed to his inability to focus on anything because of the alcohol before. Whatever it was made him become real emotional all of a sudden.

"House…" Chase paused before continuing. "House! What…what time is it?" Chase asked all of a sudden in a panic.

"Um…Ten o'clock. Why?"

"I have to go." He sounded a lot more frightened than his previous phrases.

He stood up in haste and reached into his pocket for.

"Don't worry about paying." Wilson said, already making it clear that he had it covered. He followed Chase outside to make sure that he was okay. The abrupt change in behavior made Wilson worry.

Chase started his trek back home from the bar. Wilson watched the man walk away. There were just those moments he couldn't take his eyes off of him. Wilson then realized that Chase had barely made it three feet before he began to tumble down.

"Woah woah!" Wilson hurried to his side and supported him. Wilson guided Chase to his car and drove to his apartment, much against Chase's will. Wilson refused to leave him out there.

"Do you want some coffee?" Wilson offered as he walked into his own apartment.

"Some coffee would be nice." Chase yawned. "I need some energy for the walk back."

Wilson wanted to protest Chase walking around at night in the middle of winter for a few miles but he already knew that trying to convince the other man was pointless. He couldn't help staring at him as he walked to the kitchen though. Chase's body teetered back and forth at the edge of sleep and awareness.

By the time Wilson came back to offer the warm drink, Chase was already fast asleep. There was no way in hell that he was going to wake him up to let him walk that route now especially since House's apartment was the destination.

* * *

Chase lied in an awkward position, one leg being on the edge of the couch and the other one on the arm rest. He leaned in over the blonde man's face. He slept with his mouth slightly ajar and Wilson could smell the alcoholic drinks on his warm breath. The closer Wilson got to him, the more he would feel Chase's body heat, radiating from him. It made Wilson's skin prickle with anticipation. Slowly, he made his way closer and closer to Chase, breathe quickening.

His lips made contact with Chase's. It wasn't a kiss. It was nowhere in the vicinity of a kiss. But it did touch. His lips just grazed against his. That was all. He could have gone a lot deeper but he hadn't.

What exactly was stopping him from taking him right then and there anyway? Chase was drunk and knocked out and on top of that, a heavy sleeper. Plus they were the only two in the apartment. And even though he may protest at first, he knew that Chase would gradually start to like it. Maybe he might even ask for more. If he showed him the true way of how sex could feel without tall the pain and abuse, he would no longer think about it as a nuisance. Because Wilson would make him feel good. He would show Chase what someone who actually cherished and loved him could do to with his body that would expose him to such sensations. Chase would love it. He would love every single moment of it and Wilson would get to watch his beautiful body that was once writhing in pain to be moving with pleasure under actions caused by him—not House.

It was Wilson that originally planned to go out with Chase. It had always been his plan.

He remembered growing fond of his accent, outgoing personality, and his ability to adapt to the situation of being the newest staff member of the hospital. He liked his personality and intelligence. He discovered this as he had a conversation with him about his background. But most of all, he loved the male's jewel-blue eyes and his flowy mid length blonde hair.

He had been staring at Chase unknowingly from the other side of the cafeteria, laughing at some joke one of the other doctors he sat with told the table. It was Wilson's constant leering that let House find out.

"So are you going to ask him out or are you going to stick your hand down your pants every night to his picture?" He remembered House saying as the two grabbed their trays walked to the table to sit down. It was not uncommon for House to comment in events going on in other people's lives but Wilson still sighed in slight annoyance at House and his will to never let go of a subject.

"I can assure you I'm not doing that," Wilson had replied.

"Sure you aren't. So…" House had then asked, with a mouth full of the sandwich Wilson reluctantly paid for, the question he now regrets answering. "How much do you even like the wombat anyway?"

"Wombat?" Wilson asked puzzled at the nickname House had given him on only the man's fourth day at the hospital.

"His accent. S'Australian," House had replied to him as-a-matter-of-factly as best as he could through a full mouth.

Wilson was intrigued to find out such information but dismissed it quickly before House could notice. "To answer your question, I don't know."

"Pussy."

Wilson sighed, and, wanting to change the subject he asked, "How are things with Foreman?"

"What things with Foreman?" House asked, seemingly more impressed at the detailing of the sandwich rather than the fact that a jackass like him could even hold a relationship for that long. Reading Wilson's confused expression at his previous statement, House finally relented. "Oh you mean the relationship." Then there was a pause. "He broke it off."

Wilson would have pitied him if he had known the reason. "Probably shouldn't have kept hitting him."

House's eyes had lit up with an emotion that Wilson couldn't figure. After all he only saw it for half a second before House regained his apparent apathetic composure. But it something along the lines of regret and anger.

House shrugged. "At least I had the courage to ask him out." Obviously addressing Wilson's inability to make up his mind to ask Chase out, Wilson replied reassuringly to the arrogant bastard that sat in front of him.

"I will," Wilson replied. This is something House used against him. For s few days later passed by and Wilson had made up his mind. He was going to ask Chase out. And right on the day he planned to ask him out—he couldn't. As he saw the both of them hug, Wilson had found out in a painful way that he couldn't.

House had beaten him to it.

It had only been a week but it didn't take long for one to realize that House didn't deserve someone as beautiful as Chase. Though Wilson knew that he wasn't worthy enough for the Aussie either, he would at least treat Chase with all the respect and love that Wilson could give. If only Chase could realize that!

If only…

Chase's groaning dragged Wilson out of his mindset. Wilson had his hand on his face. Wilson's other hand was stroking Chase's hair and their faces were dangerously close. Quickly, Wilson released his hold and backed away and became conscious of what he was doing. Wilson was flushed and his heart was racing from the closeness to the other man. Exactly what would have happened if he hadn't snapped out of it?

Wilson left the beverage neck to the table where Chase lied. He rubbed his eyes; it was late and he had to go to bed himself. That night he dreamt.

_Wilson lied down on his bed and kissed Chase's body. He dragged his fingers through Chase's beautiful blonde hair and sucked on his neck softly. The other man moved under Wilson's touch which he responded to further exploration of Chase's body. His mouth made its way down from his neck down to his abs and his other hand groped Chase's cock through his underwear which so happened to be the only clothing he had on. _

_He had always wanted to do this. He Always wanted to touch Chase in this manner._

_Right then, Wilson closed his eyes and moved over to Chase's lips, wanting to take in the full experience of the fervor. Once his lips touched Chase's he noticed that there was something wrong. There was something completely wrong._

_Chase's lips were moistened by a warm liquid, but it wasn't saliva—it was something thicker. Wilson knew from his many years in the medical profession that it was no saliva and he knew all too well what it really was._

_When he opened his eyes he found out that Chase had been writhing in fear beneath Wilson's touch. His watery eyes were filled with terror, and he found out why Chase hadn't protested._

_His lips were sown shut—the thin stitches made expertly with a hand of a surgeon._

_Regardless of how strong the stitches were, they did little to contain Chase's will to speak. The amount of blood surrounding them made it evident that he had been trying to open his lips. He was trying to tell Wilson to stop._

Wilson woke up in a cold sweat. It has been a long time since he woke up in complete and utter terror. He turned the pillow to the other side, making sure that it was dry and laid his head down. He lied there all night trying to take his mind off of the dream and also trying to take his mind off of his shameful erection—which both showed signs of something.

His thoughts could be just as evil as House's.


	5. Chapter 5

Wilson woke up early—5 a.m. to be exact. He always had. It's not like he had set up an alarm for that time—he was just a natural morning person. Perhaps it was because he took his time on things. By the time he showered and finished all of his morning routine, it was 8 a.m. and Wilson was just finishing the last minute creation of his meal. Well, his and Chase's meal.

Wilson had been extra quiet this morning, trying his best not to wake Chase up so the morning news on the television was out of the question as well as popping one of his 80's CDs in for a quick listen. On his way to the kitchen however his phone rang obnoxiously. Hoping that Chase hadn't heard, he ran to his phone and put it on vibrate.

"What time is it?" a groggy voice called from the sitting room couch.

Wilson hesitated, taken by surprise by his abrupt awakening. "Uh, 8:15."

"8:15?" Chase said in panic. "I…why didn't you wake me up?!" He got up frightened, his eyes moving around the sitting room in a frenzy. "I fell asleep on the couch!" he said more to himself than Wilson. "Why didn't you—"

"Chase I wasn't going to let you walk outside at night disoriented and tired for miles."

It took a while but Wilson sat down when the panic faded from Chase's expression and started eating. Just the usual scrambled eggs and toast. It was the only breakfast meal he was good at. It was when Chase came to join him that he realized that Chase just had a naturally big appetite. He ate his plate in a rush, but not because he was panicked. He didn't seem worried anymore. It was just his natural way of eating.

Wilson noticed that Chase kept pouring himself more cups of coffee that Wilson offered.

"You want me to make some more?"

Chase shook his head, politely declining. He did, however, accept the rest of the food on Wilson's plate.

"Man, I feel like crap." The Aussie said through a full mouth as he shoved food into it. Wilson found the slight lack of table manners to be charming and a little adorable; he was grateful that Chase was too preoccupied with eating to notice Wilson's staring. He was also grateful that Chase enjoyed something he made. Was Chase this content because of Wilson's cooking skills or the act itself? Knowing how sloppily he made the meal, Wilson chose the latter explanation. He wondered if House ever cooked for Chase. He wondered is House ever did anything for Chase.

Wilson heard Chase sigh and got out of his thoughts. "What am I gonna do Wilson?" He didn't even try to hide his worry about the situation. His smiled had faded.

"Just tell House that you were in a hotel or something."

"Are you kidding?" Chase exclaimed almost instantly. "I can't lie to House!"

"Well I know you don't want to but—."

"No I mean I _can't_ lie to House." He put more emphasis on the word "can't". Reading Wilson's expression, he adjusted his statement. "It's not like I've tried or anything. He just…knows everything"

"Well what's the worst that could happen?" Wilson choked a little once he said the statement. He knew the real answer to it. Why did he even have to ask?

Chase didn't answer. Or rather he tried to answer but was diverted by something. "Man…my head is killing me."Chase said as he rubbed one of his temples as he ate. "Last night…I said a few things." Chase admitted as if remind Wilson of the preceding conversation.

"Don't worry about it…you were wasted." Wilson smiled and tried to laugh Chase's troubled face off. It seemed like the conversation's direction was going to bring him great discomfort.

"Exactly what _did_ I say?" Chase now seemingly apprehensive about how much information he could have let out.

"Chase it's not that big of a deal."

"Please. Just tell me." Chase's eyes were big.

"Okay…" Wilson sighed "You just said you didn't like sex."

"Oh." Chase started biting his bottom.

"Why don't you? Hadn't you and House—?"

"I made a mistake telling you that." Chase said it quickly.

"What do you mean?" Wilson leaned in closer, making direct eye contact with the Aussie. He was actually hurt that Chase would feel the need to keep things from him. "You know you can tell me anything," he reassured, making Chase know that he was always there.

"No, that's not what I meant. What I meant was…" Chase's eyes became distant as if remembering something. "…I wouldn't _really_ call it sex."

"Why?"

Upon hearing the inquiry, Chase's expression changed drastically. For that moment, Wilson could tell that he had asked the wrong question and immediately regretted it. He wanted Chase to think about that as least as possible when he wasn't at House's apartment. While away from that place he wanted Chase to take his mind elsewhere so he could keep being happy. But Wilson's curiosity got the better of him and now Chase's features were contorting to that of dread. And upon seeing this expression, Wilson decided something.

He no longer wanted to know.

He had made assumptions about the actions taken upon Chase but it had all seemed, in some way, surreal. He didn't want to hear what has been done to Chase to make him feel such a way. Also, he did not want to hear about the ways House had touched him period.

Was this the same thing he wanted to tell Wilson last night before they left the night bar? Either way, one thing disgusted him. Chase was wearing House's shirt. He knew all too well how Robert Chase dressed compared to House and the raggedy button down long sleeve shirt he wore untucked reflected House's characteristics.

"Just…won't." That was all Chase said to explain the awkward sentence.

"Okay."

"What is one thing _you_ don't like?" Chase asked.

"I…don't like dreaming"

"Dreaming?" chase said with an incredulous tone. "Really? Why?"

Wilson paused as he tried to gather the right words to say. He hadn't really explained this to anyone—it was just a thought that he pondered on often. "It's the only place that I cannot control my actions." He stared into Chase's perplexed expression. Though Wilson could tell the other man was confused, Chase still listened to him and Wilson really appreciated that. "Dreams are a way you can get trapped into an unfamiliar place. It's unfamiliar because it is not created by you; it is created by the things you try to avoid during your waking hours. It is created by the dark thoughts that are locked away when you're conscious only to be released once your defenses are down."

A moment of intensity settled in the air as Chase nodded. "What do you dream about?"

That question caught Wilson by surprise. He hadn't expected Chase to be interested about something like that. "It's…hard to explain…"

"Try me," Chase ragged with a small grin.

Hesitant, Wilson finally relented. "Someone that I care about being in pain. Terrible terrible pain."

"So…you feel like you cause the pain or what?" Chase asked, taking another sip of the coffee. He no longer had a teasing tone. Just curious.

"Not necessarily. But it's always the same in all situations. The person in pain never get's saved—never is released from what's torturing him," Wilson said a little distant. His mind drifted off to the recent nightmares he had: Chase with House's cane in his mouth or Chase strapped onto the bed. Most of them involved House's walking cane, which made Wilson shiver.

Chase's loud sipping of the coffee brought Wilson out of it. There was a long pause before Wilson asked. "What about you?"

"Oh," Chase shrugged with a smile as he swallowed the last slurp of the drink. "Honestly, I haven't dreamt lately."

Wilson nodded. He eyed his watch and realized that it was almost time for work. He was getting ready to stand until Chase spoke up again.

"When I do though, it's a great escape."

'What are you escaping from?' Wilson wanted to ask but Chase was already preoccupied with the time himself.

"I gotta go." Chase said as he got up grabbed his jacket, heading for the door.

"Do you need a ride?" Wilson asked.

"I have to drop by House's apartment first. I left some things there. Plus, he might be worried about my whereabouts." Chase added a laugh at the end of the statement. It sounded forced.

Chase said bye and left, his warm smile lasting a long impression on Wilson even as he left the apartment. Wilson grabbed his own jacket and walked outside into the freezing air and felt his phone vibrate. It was a text from Chase. It read:

**Thanks.** **For everything**.

The text made him feel so humid in the midst of the stinging winter air. Perhaps he may not even need his jacket.


	6. Chapter 6

Fumbling with the small steel keys, Chase entered the apartment, the cold air literally pushing him in until he closed the door. Surprisingly, it was the same temperature inside the apartment than it was outside if not colder.

"Where were you?" Chase heard a voice say the instant he walked into the building.

Suddenly, Chase felt the hair at the back of his neck stand. Regardless of the excuse that he gave Wilson when he was departing the apartment, House was usually out of the apartment at this time.

"W-what," Chase stuttered. He knew what House had said but it was House's dark tone that made him not want to admit it immediately. What frightened him the most was House's position. He was sitting, facing away from the door so Chase couldn't see his face.

"Where were you?" House lifted up his hand and tilted his drink into his mouth.

"A couple of the doctors went out for some drinks and…uh I decided to follow." Chase replied in a shaky voice.

"I know where you guys left. Do you expect me to believe that you slept in the freaking bar?" House said. His voice was a little gruffer when he said the sentence.

"Well uh…I was drunk and I couldn't walk home and—."

Chase stopped when he saw House's body move. He stood up, resting on his cane as usual. Chase didn't look at it. He couldn't look at it. It almost seemed sinister on its own without House having to even having to use it. They were now eyes to eye.

"And uh…" Chase gulped. "I spent the night at a hotel."

It was something he knew he was bad at. Lying that is. And even though he didn't take Wilson up on his offer at the time, he changed his mind when House stood up.

"Okay." House said it with an accepting tone. Chase couldn't belive it workd But Chase couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to what House wanted to say. "Now tell me where you _really_ were."

Chase's heart stopped for half a second.

"You must think I'm stupid," House said as he limped toward Chase. Chase hadn't gotten scared for two reasons. It was that House hadn't seemed angry and his tone. His stride was even, (besides his limp), and he was slow in his movements. The second was that House was smiling. It wasn't broad but it was there. This was very surprising to Chase.

Chase sighed, smiling slightly back at House. It has been a while since he'd seen him like this. It was one of the main reasons why Chase said yes when he asked him out.

"I was too drunk to walk home. I've never done it before so I didn't know I would be that disoriented. I ended up crashing on Wilson's couch."

House nodded. "So you spent the night there only because of your recklessness?"

"I…well I didn't know that it would be that bad. I wouldn't really use that word."

"Okay, okay." House looked up jokingly. "How about carelessness? Thoughtlessness? Inattentive? Wildness—."

"I get it." Chase laughed. He was relieved that nothing bad came out of the situation. House was close to him now, his hand rubbing his chin. Chase took the hint and leaned in to kiss him. House's lips felt warm against his cold lips.

The kissing continued accompanied by groping. Chase's muscles quivered as he felt House's bony fingers trail through his hair. House chuckled. "I never liked your hair this length."

Why was he always saying that?

After that, House didn't say a word as his hands traveled to Chase's hips and he pulled down his pants. It wasn't long before Chase felt punctuated, long strokes on his cock. Quickly, the pace increased. Chase couldn't breathe as pleasure coursed through his body. The all over hyper alert feeling returned and Chase couldn't help but let out a moan.

Suddenly, he felt something tight and small wrap around his cock. He looked down and widened his once slit pleasured eyes, as House pulled the penis ring higher. The aching in his tender member began to become more intense as House started stroking again. The grip was painful, yes, but Chase snapped his hips forward, desperate to gain some pleasure from the experience.

House smiled, fingers digging little crescent moons into Chase's hips that bled as red as he felt. The grip on Chase's erection became unbearable and he began bucking his hips away and into the wall behind him. House used it as a way to pin Chase it further against the wall, keeping him from fighting.

"House! I can't…I can't breathe!" Chase choked out and House crushed his body against his.

The sounds of Chase's labored breathing filled the room, and he closed his eyes as his head started to spin. Silently, his mouth opened into a scream of shock when he felt sharp teeth bite into the flesh of his neck.

Unlike last time, House didn't use handcuffs. Chase quickly found out that House never needed to in the first place. He was strong enough to grapple Chase's arms behind his back with one hand while the other continually pumped him and every time that Chase opened his mouth to groan, House used it as an opportunity to stick his tongue inside with a moist kiss.

It wasn't long before Chase was about to climax. "Shit! House!" Sensing this, a painful fist suddenly closed around Chase's erection. House pulled up the ring right when his semen was about to come out. "N-no! Fuck, just let me go! Pleasssseeee!" Chase whined thrashing from side to side.

House placed his finger into Chase's mouth to silence. "Shhh…such a dirty mouth."

Chase's body was quivering and he shook with the intensity of the feeling House was putting him through. Chase panted, rolling his hips downwards. "House please…I need to cum so bad."

"Tsk tsk. So impatient. You don't care enough to help _me_ out?" Chase looked down and wasn't surprised to see that House was already hard, his heavy cock throbbing against his thigh as he shoved the blonde against the wall. House arms and finally let go of Chase's arms, hastily pulling down his own pants as he stared angrily at Chase's mouth. With more strength than the hand that held his hands together, House pushed Chase down onto his knees.

"House I…I'm not comfortable doing this." Chase tried not to show his fear but it was shown in his voice. "And I—I don't know how to." His confession fell on deaf ears.

House didn't reply; he just grabbed the sides of Chase's face, dragging his hands yet again through the blonde man's hair before commenting on its length again. At this moment Chase realized that House would completely disregard Chase's feelings and what he wanted. He tried not to panic but grabbed House's cock which was heavy, thick and so angry with the color with a red head that dribbled rich creamy pre-cum over his fingers. With fear Chase's hands shook as he moved his mouth closer to the cock, ghosting over the tip for a moment, before taking it in.

It wasn't long before he got the jest of the movement, especially since House's grip on his hair guided his motions. Everything else, however, was a challenge. He couldn't control his breathing and often had to move his head back to breathe which made House very irritable. Chase did the best he could feeling a great sense of fulfillment when he made House climax.

It didn't change him wanting to release himself however. If the pain wasn't bad before, it was unbearable now. His mouth hung open for air intake, dripping with a heavy flow of salivation and House's semen.

"Can you please take off the ring now?" Chase begged through panted breaths.

"What ring?" House mocked. "Oh, this one?" House slightly tapped the ring and rubbed his finger on it, threatening to slide it off. "It's funny…the size I got was a little too big and it can still hold all your juices back."

Chase couldn't reply. The pain was becoming too intense. He just screamed. In a beastly manner House said, "You're such a fucking slut—you have no control do you?"

House continued tapping the ring, grinning whilst Chase was losing control. "House…please!"

Chase moaned loudly again as House moved the ring down Chase's length slightly.

"I like how you beg with those lips of yours," Chase heard dark laugher in his phrase. He finally slipped off the ring, letting out a wicked smile when he moaned loudly as he was being released.

It took a moment for Chase to settle. First he had to wait until his legs stopped shaking along with the rest of his body. Though he hadn't felt as good as he'd wanted, it hadn't hurt as bad as last time which was in a way ironic to Chase according to the area these acts took place; he hadn't expected to be more aroused standing in a hallway than in the bedroom.

"S' gonna be a long day," Chase commented as he looked through the closet for his coat.

"Cuddy's clinic duty is going to be a pain in my ass," House said as a reply.

"You have to do clinic duty?"

"She says I've been missing too many days of work."

Chase thought for a moment. Has those days been the days they've had fights and House stayed home to deal with him?

"Yeah. Speaking of which I've got to tell both Cuddy and Wilson—."

"No."

"No?" Chase asked in an incredulous tone. There was something about the word "no" that made him so uneasy. There wasn't any explanation—it was just one word that Chase was forced to comply with. It always bothered him to be commanded to do something without the slightest bit of clarification. "What do you mean no?"

"No as in you're not talking to Wilson." House shrugged off the statement quickly.

"Why can't I?" Chase laughed out, dismissing House's order. He was sure House had been playing. He was hoping that House had been playing. "This… doesn't make any sense."

"You're always trying to leave me aren't you? Isn't that why you stayed over at Wilson's in the first place?!" House's voice was monotone until he said that.

Chase was shocked. "That doesn't make any sense! Just because you're insecure doesn't mea-,"

"You should take my order seriously Chase, regardless of what you think the reason is."

"But this is crazy; you can't expect me to do that!" Chase tried to run away from House who gets angry from him saying that.

House turned around. "You don't seem to understand what I'm saying. Maybe I should rephrase it then." His tone came out extremely angrier. "Talk to Wilson and don't come home."

Chase felt his heart sank and he could tell that House was serious for two reasons. The first was that House's eyes were boring into Chase's. The second was that he stood, his posture having the goal to intimidate Chase rather than supporting his one good leg.

"Do you understand?" House snapped as Chase's expression still stayed confused.

"Wilson's one of my closest friends…" Chase whispered more to himself than to House. The thought of giving up Wilson's friendship hurt.

"Be careful what you say Chase, I can show you just how nasty I can be if you want, or have you forgotten about the cane?" House teased wickedly and Chase felt his patience snap.

"Screw you House! This isn't fair! You can't stop me from doing what I want let alone talking to someone." Chase hadn't known why he said it. Perhaps it was the thought of House using the cane on him again then again him saying such a thing might have gotten him closer to its encounter again.

House did nothing at first…he just stood there. It took only a few seconds for Chase to realize what mistake he had made; held his breath. "House I'm sorry—."

Before he could get his statement out House came charging at him like a wild animal. Panicking, Chase turned and headed for the hallway but was instantly stopped when he felt something club his foot—Chase didn't even have to guess what it was.

Chase fell, hitting his chest on the edge of the table on his way down. A sickening scream filled the room as Chase struggled to breathe. His ribs ached with so much pain and every time he tried to take the smallest breath, he would choke on his pain. He didn't know what happened.

Chase felt like he was about to pass out from the pain but he was wrong. He didn't need to pass out. As House approached Chase he held a syringe in his hand with a clear liquid inside. He didn't know what the unknown substance was, but the expression on House's face was enough to give him an idea. Chase couldn't stand up to leave—he was too tired, too weak. House walked him slowly which made his approach more menacing.

"House!" Chase croaked out. "What are you—."

"Shut up," House said calmly.

Chase's fear had picked up his adrenaline so high that he hadn't even felt the needle dig into his skin or his blood vessel. By this time, Chase knew that House was not going to attack him with the cane however he didn't know if what was to come was worse. He shut his eyes tightly before he found that his body being dragged on the floor to the bedroom. The rug was burning his back as he slid roughly.

"House what are you doing?!" Chase screamed.

"I have to make sure that you don't leave." House's indifferent tone to his actions was frightening.

The day had gone terribly wrong and by now and Chase was wishing he had never walked into the apartment. He wished that he hadn't stayed at Wilson's House at all.

He soon was thrown on the bed and Chase quivered under his lover's strength. "What are you going to do to me?! I'm sorry!"

House brought out a rope in his hand and walked over to Chase. A million options flowed through Chase's mind. Was House going to strangle him? Tie him limbs together then do the unthinkable? However, House just walked over to him and tied his arms above head against the head post. Chase hadn't even bothered to struggle because he knew that he was too weak to fight against House let alone with the growing pain in his ribs which was starting to get worse.

"Sorry to break the news to you," House said in a mocking tone, "But you can't spend the night at Wilson's today again."

"I'm not going to Wilson's apartment today House!"

"I know you won't," House smiled. "You can't get there if you're tied." House said, kissing Chase's forehead in a loving manner. Chase could tell that it was unauthentic—that someone that could tie their lover against a bed for hours was not capable of kissing so tenderly.

With saying this, He left the room. The sickening silence that followed the fight chilled Chase to the bone.

Chase was hoping that it was a cruel sick joke and that House would walk in at any minute and laugh at Chase's fear. Yes, he would be angry, but it would be forgivable. He had struggled against the ropes braceleted around his wrists. He had given up on trying after the first 15 minutes. For some reason, he knew that House was an expert at tying ropes because it had only taken him a few seconds to do it. The next few hours became chunks of consciousness sewn together by griping pain from his ribs and burning sensation from whatever House had injected into him; it was mostly concentrated around the area. His arms were staring to get cramps because they had been above his head the whole time and unless he stayed absolutely still, they burned like hell.

House didn't come at night as well, leaving Chase stuck in the bed during the dark hours of the night. It was hard for him to breathe in air from his nose with his arms pulled tightly over his head so he was forced to breathe through his mouth.

The next day when House finally showed up.

"Chase?" House's voice seemed to caress the Aussie's name.

Chase opened his cracked lips and rasped, "House…"

It was when he opened his mouth to speak that he realized that even talking made him dizzy; maybe House's drug was still in effect. "How long has it been?"

"Only 15 hours," House chided.

"15? 15 hours House?" His shock and anger was evident through his voice, which House disregarded immediately.

15 hours?! House had left him tied to a bed for that long? Though he slept through most of it, Chase's couldn't help but still feel fear as House slackened the rope on Chase's arm. "You won't talk to Wilson anymore now will you?"

Chase didn't know if it was because of fear of what house would do if he disagreed. He didn't know if it was because of the grogginess or from the effects the drug previously injected into his veins that had a hand in his response. He just knows that he choked, "I promise…I won't talk to Wilson anymore."


	7. Chapter 7

It was peculiar how quickly the air can change in intensity. Just a few minutes ago Wilson had been walking outside in the cold air after getting out of his car with a parking spot inconveniently placed far away from the hospital—and he had been happy. Hopeful to be more exact. But as he stepped into the tepid depths of the hospital, it faded, leaving him stranded with a feeling of dread.

For some reason, the stinging winds that had penetrated through his thin jacket while he was outside did little to change his optimistic feeling. However, the warmth of the hospital brought him the feeling of dread. It was easy for someone to dismiss it, knowing how hospitals are not the most optimistic of places. But somehow he knew…he knew that Chase was not going to show up for that day—just like the previous one.

Unfortunately, Wilson's prediction had been more than correct and the fact that Chase wasn't picking up his calls made it worse. He didn't understand why however. What could make a man walk into an apartment and not be able to leave for 2 days?

Wilson tried his best to shrug his thoughts off. It had become a pattern that the doctor was used to. He would see Chase after a short absence, talk, and move about his day only to have Chase not return for a while. It was saddening how used to it he had gotten, but there was nothing else that he could do. He actually found himself looking forward to the conversations that he and Chase could have.

But when Chase did show up after his 2 days absence something had changed. Chase didn't talk to him. Chase didn't talk to anyone. He just went about his day like no one existed besides the ones required to do his work. When someone told him to do something, he nodded without his usual humorous objection on how anyone else on his team could do it.

Even though Chase was a very extrovert person, no one in the hospital knew him well enough to tell. They had only encountered him in small talk or his silly faces he would make down the hallway. To others, he was likaeble but not remember able. So no one noticed that he was acting oddly.

No one but Wilson.

It may have been mainly because Chase's actions were mainly pointed at avoiding him. He might have been overreacting but it seemed like such; Chase took different routes and would look in different directions to avoid Wilson it seemed.

It got to the point where Wilson couldn't take it anymore. He had to find out some answers. He knew tat House wouldn't bother him this time because he was stuck with clinic duty but that wasn't his main concern. His main concern was the hold House had on Chase without being there. It frightened him to think that House had that much influence. It was believable when examining Chase's weak character however.

He had to know if that could have been the reason on why he was avoiding him.

After doing some searching around the hospital Wilson saw Cameron and Foreman working in a lab.

"No." Foreman said as soon as he saw Wilson walk into the room.

"I didn't even say anything yet." Wilson was taken aback at the sudden answer.

"You're going to ask me to help talk to Chase about House." Foreman than looked up, thinking, before he shrugged and said, "Or vise versa."

Foreman said turning his glance away from his work temporarily to face Wilson. "So…No." This would have surprised anyone that didn't know Eric Foreman. He was always one to predict people's actions very easily. Maybe that's why he had left House before the abuse got worse.

"I could have come in here for a number of reasons." Wilson replied.

"Yeah, and you expect me to believe that you just wanted to randomly check up on us. Not buying it." Foreman dropped a liquid on a glass slide and continued with his work.

Wilson sighed. "Okay, you got me…" He felt some sort of shame as he relented. "Chase's condition is getting worse—."

"I like how I say no, yet you take that as a cue to continue."

Wilson adjusted his stance and closed in on Foreman. "Look, you're the only person I can come to for this."

"Which is…none of my business," he dismissed with a shrug and averted eyes from the person that wanted answer. Foreman answered his questions swiftly and with an apathetic expression.

"How is it none of your business? You've—!" Wilson stared at the other doctor until he looked up at him once more. Then he looked around and lowered his tone so that Cameron couldn't hear. "You've been through the same thing."

"Yes," Foreman laughed. "And where was this heroic version of you exactly when that was happened a long time ago?" Foreman snapped.

Wilson paused. "What …do you mean?"

"You know— when your best friend was beating on **me**?" Foreman's abrupt statement made Wilson pause midsentence. "You knew exactly what he was doing to me and you looked over it. Meanwhile you would try your hardest to defend your weak boy crush. You even go as far as to ask me to help?" Foreman's sentences remained calm but bitter.

"Foreman, you knew I had no way of knowing until the very end. The bastard's not even my best friend anymore. I didn't know how bad it was until you left him. I'm sorry—."

"Save it. I don't need your pity." It was harsh but it was true. Foreman seemed to always be strong willed regardless of situations that befell him.

Wilson sighed. "Look you said it yourself. Chase is weak. And even though you may hold some resentment to him—."

"Resentment? You have the whole reason why I'm refusing to help all wrong." Foreman almost chuckled at he looked into the microscope.

Wilson's face became puzzled in which foreman replied. "There is no way to help in this situation. You can't help someone that doesn't want it. He's basically throwing himself at the hits."

Wilson was shocked at what Foreman was saying. "You're…blaming Chase for being abused?"

"I'm blaming Chase for not running away."

"But he need help," Wilson attempted to say. "Look at what's –."

"No." Foreman's indifference to the situation was starting to irritate Wilson. "He doesn't need help. He needs someone to walk up to him and tell him not to be with House so that it could strengthen his will to be with House. It's a complete waste of time."

"Look, you know he's hurt! Do you even hear what you're saying?"

"What do you expect me to say? He's going out of his way to please a monster. Who knows. He might even like it." Foreman's tone became bitterer with every word he spoke and each sentence he said made Wilson all the more sick.

"Foreman…" Regardless of Wilson's efforts to try to reason with Foreman came in vain. "It's none of my business. Now if you excuse me, I have to get back to my job—something that you should be working on." Foreman walked away.

* * *

Foreman came back in from takeout. He wasn't into the hospital food as much as everyone else. He was about to go get a head start on his work but then he saw something peculiar. Chase was sitting down alone at the table at lunch. He looked like he struggled to eat.

Foreman sighed and walked over to him and sat down. And though he didn't care for him, he still felt somewhat sorry for him. When Foreman sat next to him, he was met with a surprised face.

"What?" Foreman asked.

"You…you've never sat next to me before." Chase stuttered.

"You've never sat alone before," Foreman said as-a-matter-of-factly as he took a seat next to him.

Foreman could tell that something was completely wrong with Chase. His breaths were short and quick and he sat in an awkward position and his wrists were rubbed raw, a sickening shade of blood red and purple as if tied from a rope. On top of that, he looked extremely frail.

The two sat there, eating awkwardly. Foreman hadn't necessarily planned the encounter out, but what Wilson said was starting to stick. He had to have done something other wise his guilt would have taken over. There was a long moment of silence before Chase spoke.

"Can I …uh… ask you a favor?" Chase asked, looking down as if ashamed to ask.

"Depends on what it is." Though he was showing sympathy towards the Aussie, he wasn't going to be untruthful.

There was a pause before Chase, touching his chest, said, "I need your help."

Foreman took a look into the x-ray room to see if the coast was clear. When he saw the room to be empty he sighed, "Alright let's make this quick. We're supposed to be working."

Foreman lifted up Chase's shirt and brought his hands up to Chase's sides, leading them around his torso. Chase recoiled at Foreman's touch as if scared to make contact with him.

"Will you relax? I barely touched you." Foreman snapped, a little too harshly—even he would admit that, but he couldn't help but feel irritated at the situation. He was here touching up on Chase's injured frail body, helping with something that he shouldn't be helping on; he couldn't tell if he was madder at House or at Chase at the moment.

"Sorry." Chase whispered it pathetically. Then Foreman realized that Chase wasn't someone who asked to be roped into circumstances like this. He was just too weak to escape. Escape someone like House, which Foreman assumed where such an injury came from. He couldn't have done this to himself.

"No, I am sorry," Foreman sighed. "Just stressed out a little. Okay?"

Chase nodded. The silence in the room was filled up with Chase's raspy breathing and occasional coughing. Then Foreman could see why. There was swelling in Chase's ribcage and the sickish purple color alone was enough to make Foreman feel uneasy. It was hard to listen to his struggle for breath but Foreman couldn't pinpoint why. He had dealt with this many times when with a patient.

"How long ago did this happen?" Foreman said as he touched his left rib. The slightest pressure made it worse.

"One and a half days ago. The pain keeps getting worse. It's getting harder to breathe—."

Foreman brought the lead vest and placed it on Chase. After they were done Foreman examined it. During this, Chase stared down, fidgeting. He didn't want to look at the damage House had done to him, though he could feel it every time he took a breath.

"They're not broken if that's the reason you're looking down."

Chase looked up, slightly relieved.

"But they will be if you don't get a cast." Foreman pointed the area out to Chase. It almost seemed to be surreal for the blonde. Then he finally spoke.

"I can't."

"You need a cast Chase; it's not really an option."

Chase shook his head. "No, I can't. I just can't…" Chase became noticeably more panicked.

Foreman became confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I…" Chase's eyes were distant as he talked to Foreman. "I can't…thank you Foreman." Chase fast walked to the door. It was now evident to Foreman that Chase was keeping something.

"Wait a minute." Foreman was slightly irritated but wanted to know what was up…more out of curiosity than sympathy. Or at least that's what he was telling himself.

Foreman paced after Chase, who started to increase the speed in his stride. Foreman finally broke into a run and caught up with Chase, grabbing him by his shoulder.

Chase screamed out in pain for some reason and broke out of Foreman's grip, rushing into another room. "Chase!" Foreman ignored the awkward stares he was getting from the other nurses.

Foreman ran into the room that Chase was currently residing in. Chase was turned around against a wall but Foreman could still tell that he was crying. It was accompanied by Chase's heavy breathing. It was almost sad to see him in such a state but foreman passed it off for his thoughts needed to be elsewhere in order to find out what was going on.

"Why don't you want the cast?" Foreman asked in an exasperated tone.

"I can't get it! Then House will know…" Chase screamed as he turned around.

"But your ribs—they can't receive any more damage. You know that. We're both doctors for crying out loud! What is going to happen if you have one?" Foreman was mostly screaming now. His anger spiked once he heard House's name.

"He'll hit me again…just when things are getting better he'll hit me! I'll be okay. I just won't do anything strenuous and—."

Foreman rolled his eyes. "This is fucking insane. Why do you let this happen to you?" He was fully angry now. Why can't he just fight back? Why can't he just leave!

"Please!" Chase begged. "Please! If you have to do a cast at least do one tomorrow! I just want to go home for one day without him hurting me!"

Chase sank into the floor against the cool wall whimpering like a sad child. It was then that Foreman found out why his raspy breathing had bothered him so much. That could have been him whimpering against the wall like some sort of wounded animal with no shame or sense of dignity as long he was with House.

"You're pathetic." Foreman walked out of the room half angry and half satisfied. He didn't care if Chase got better. He didn't care if he escaped House's seize.

Then why did Foreman find himself crying?


	8. Chapter 8

The mind is a very easy thing to break, maneuver, and manipulate into thinking whatever you wanted it to and believe with enough denial or paranoia behind it. In Wilson's case, he needed to remind himself of that simple fact that he had learned in psychology just to keep himself from telling him that Chase was not ignoring him. Or maybe that was his mind's way of trying to deny such. Maybe he was thinking too hard about all of it. There was one thing that Wilson didn't have to think through to guarantee. This was one of the most stressful days that Wilson had while he was at the hospital. Perhaps the thought of Chase had lingered on his mind too much that it was starting to impair the way he thought of things.

Then he saw him, leaning against the front desk before him. He looked like he was about to head out.

"Chase?" Wilson asked, not realizing how fast he was walking up to the man until he stood beside him.

Slowly, Chase turned around. "Wilson."

"Hey…uh how are things?" Wilson nearly cussed himself at the awkwardness of the situation he created.

Chase looked back at him, not seeming to notice Wilson's awkwardness at all. He had always liked that about Chase. "Could be better." He tried to force a smile but Wilson could see the strain his cheek muscles went through when trying to create it.

Wilson could tell other things were off about Chase. His posture was different. He stood as if he was some sort of wounded animal, resting his arm against the counter for support. His chest also rose more, making Chase seem like the natural act of air intake was too much for his frail body.

"You okay?" Wilson didn't try to hide the concern in his voice. After all, Chase did look like he was going to pass out. Wilson was glad that Chase was finally talking to him. Maybe he had imagined the fact that Chase had been avoiding him in the first place. He had been in a lot of stress of the situation of him and House's relationship.

"Yeah, just—." Chase's phone rang, interrupting the short conversation that they had in days.

Though it seemed like Chase wasn't able to, his body tensed up even more.

"Okay." Chase said it to whoever was on the other line before shutting off the phone.

"I have to go," Chase said disappointment evident in his tone.

Wilson roughed up Chase's hair in a joking manner. "It's okay." Wilson laughed at Chase's expression. "I'll call you later."

Chase nodded once, smile still forced.

Chase walked out of the hospital and saw House there waiting for him. He had picked up the slack when his phone started ringing for the third time. Chase hadn't picked it up because he knew House would just repeat the first one over "Get your ass outside. Hurry up" Chase couldn't tell if house had been joking or not. Whether angry or sad, or happy, he always talked the same. It was his reactions that made chase understand what the other male was feeling during situations and though Chase couldn't read them 100% clearly it was a lot closer to knowing than just reading words.

Once Chase reached outside, his chest heaved from pain of the extra air intake he was forced to take.

They rode House's motorcycle to the apartment complex. It has always frightened him to ride on such a machine that you could be so vulnerable in. However, the first time he rode it, he had done it to impress House more than overcoming his fear. It gave him an unmistakable thrill.

"How was work?" Chase asked trying to add something to the silence that sounded so deadly on the streets after the motorcycle came to an stop after reaching their destination.

"Annoying. Cuddy doubled my hours. Guess I have to show up to work more." House continued to limp as he went closer to the apartment complex. "Speaking of while I was talking to Cuddy today, she said that someone did any x-ray. Do you know about that?"

"Oh uh me and Foreman wanted to test the patience's—."

"I don't think you need to check someone's ribs if they have head trauma." House laughed then abruptly said harshly, "Don't lie to me."

"I ..." chase didn't know what to say in response to House's drastic change in behavior.

"Someone couldn't keep their mouth shut," House basically sang, slamming the apartment door behind the two of them. Chase felt a feeling of dread as he heard the click of the locking door. House was closing him on him. Chase knew all too well on how he could avoid this. As long as he stayed away from any wall, House would not be able to slam him against it.

"House I swear I didn't tell anyone anything."

"Oh? So it just so happened that you and Foreman decided to take x-rays?"

"Okay yes I asked him to do an x-ray. But I didn't say anything! I just asked. I told him I fell!"

"You know…I always wondered what would happen if everyone knew that you liked being spanked…or how much you like being kinky? Would you like everyone to know the names you wanted to be called? Or the things you wanted to act out?"

All things he had told House in confidence. The thought of him releasing themscared him to death.

"That's not fair House! I didn't even want you to do those things to me! You knew I didn't want to go that far! Are you that cocky to the point that you don't even realize that you're not as good at covering up your tracks as you think you are?" Chase was scared, yes, but his emotions were controlling his reason.

"Are you insane?!" House snapped viciously. "You better stop this little act of yours otherwise I'll beat it out of you!"

"Act of what? People like Wilson care enough to—." Chase was cut off.

"Wilson?!" House stopped and chuckled darkly before saying "so this is why you're acting like this? Still got Wilson on your mind? Looks like someone hasn't learned their lesson. You couldn't have anyway since you were talking to him today…Oh yeah! By the way …why the hell were you talking to him today?!"

"House, I'm sorry. I didn't expect him to just show up next to me trying to start a conversation." Chase whined.

"Oh it wasn't the fact that he came up to you. It was the fact that he walked up and you replied instead of walking away."

"House…but I didn't even go to his house or follow him anywhere. Why won't you let me talk to him?!"

"I don't give a rat's ass if you didn't follow him. That's not the only thing I asked."

"House, tell me why."

"Stop playing stupid. You don't need an explanation, just don't talk to him! I've given you _everything_ you've ever asked for. You want love? I gave you it! Attention? You've got it 24/7! But I ask you to leave one thing alone and you just can't for me?!"

"You're asking more than just that! You're asking to comply with an order without reason!"

"It's obvious. You're just playing this stupid game of 20 questions to get under my skin and you know how these types of situations end." House was hinting at another night of being hurt.

"What …are you talking about?" Chase, in all honesty, choked out.

"He fucking likes you!"

"What?"

There was no way that James Wilson liked him, Chase thought. He was too sophisticated and brilliant for someone like Chase. Wilson was the type of guy that fell for a genius person like Foreman. Besides, if he really liked him, why hadn't he asked Chase out? He dismissed House's words.

"You know his feelings for you!"

"No…What are you talking about?"

"You never knew that he has feelings for you? Are you that stupid? Or do you like the attention? He fucking wants to fuck you. What else would be the reason he'd want to even talk to you?" House added venomously. "Did you like it when he touched your hair? What other parts of you does he touch?!"

His hair? What did he mean by that? Was her referring to the time that Wilson had stroked his hair? Was that why he was so angry? On top of that, was what House said true? Chase stared into space, trying to figure everything out. Suddenly, Chase's phone rang…Chase looked down at his phone to see who it was; it was Wilson.

"Who is that? That's Wilson isn't it? Maybe that's why he keeps fucking calling! He wants more of what you gave him! You just can't keep yourself from taking it up the ass now can you? Why do you think I've never actually fucked you!" House was screaming, his face turning slightly red from the furry that arose within him.

"House!" Chase screamed. It hurt him for House to think so little of him to the point he suspected him of sleeping with Wilson. It hurt him even more when he knew the reference that House was referring to. He was talking about the time House had violated him with a cane and pumped him senseless when he put a ring around his member and the more Chase thought about it, the more pained he felt.

" I talk to him as a friend…so what…I'm with YOU! And I might not be if this keeps happening!" I screamed but as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. He had made a peril; the same one that him tied to their bed post for 15 hours once again. House's face contorted in rage and Chase tensed, waiting for the repercussions of his words.

Suddenly, House lunged forward. While spinning himself to run down the hall, the curve of House's cane curled around his ankle and snatched him back. Chase fell on the floor, face slamming into the wood. He screamed as his rips impacted the floor with no protection.

Clumsily, Chase lost his balance as House yanked Chase back and flipped him over, his head banging against the step with a thud. "Ouch, House stop it!" Chase screamed. House pinned his moving legs underneath us with his own and used one hand to feel on Chase. It wasn't long before the beating. House let all his furry out on him. Shrieking, I struggled to get away but his grip only tightened and his wrist ached in protest of the rough treatment. His eyes were so rage induced—so filled with anger. Chase stared into them as he gripped his hair again and slammed his head back against the floor. He grabbed his hair again. House was planning on repeating the attack again.

Was House going to torture him all over again? His ribs couldn't receive any more damage. As the other day on the floor flashed in Chase's mind and for the first time his survival instinct told him to fight; without thinking, a knee came up and I kicked him, pulling my hair away from his hands to head butt him at the same time.

All of a sudden, Chase crawled away quickly, three steps ahead of House, who was just recovering from the attack before what he had just done hit him full force. He had never fought back against House. Ever. The thought had never crossed his mind for some reason; it just seemed like an insane concept to hurt House—someone so much in pain and self torture already that it seemed nothing could bring further harm.

Looking back, House saw him sit up, his brows furrowed in shock. But when their eyes met, the look cleared and was replaced by one of dark laughter. "Looks like you still has some fight left in you…I wonder how long you can last." House stood slowly but Chase didn't see what else was to come as he dashed to end of the hallway into their bedroom, slamming the door shut. Chase heard nothing coming from the hallway which for some reason frightened him even more. He shoved a dresser towards the door, trying to ignore the pain it was causing his ribs which were sure to receive more damage after all of this was over.

"Open the fucking door Chase!"

"No! Leave me alone!" Chase sat against the dresser that was shoved again the door. Even as he put all his weight on it, he could still feel the piece of furniture about to tumble over the tremendous force House excreted on the wall. It could lose its balance very quickly. Shoved his back against the dresser and pulled his hand up to his ears. But even though he tried to block out the sound of fury from the other man, he heard every threat coming from his mouth.

"Leave me alone!" Chase whimpered loudly like a bullied child. "Just leave me alone—I hate you!"

The banging and screams from the other side of the door stopped abruptly. The silence had frightened Chase more from the fear of anticipation. It was just as bad as the fear of dread.

"You _what_?!" House choked out with a cracking voice.

It became terribly silent outside the door as Chase backed away nervously before he heard a dull thud that got harsher each time it impacted with the door. House's breath sounded close.

Was he banging his head? "Damn it Chase, why do you do this to me? Every. Single. Time. I think things are going to be okay, you say some shit to fuck with my head. Do you not realize there are just some things you shouldn't say to me?"

"Just go!" Chase screamed. "You're scaring me Tyrone! Everything I do makes you mad! Just stop!" Chase was sobbing harder than he's ever had been. "Just stop hurting me!

The banging at the back of the door intensified and Chase could feel the dresser about to tumble over on his. Quickly he moved out of the way and ran into the closet right at the moment it was knocked over.

He ran into the closet, scared for his life as he heard the bedroom door open.

"You're all grown up Chase. Can't play hide and seek anymore." As if on instinct, House pulled ran to the closet and pulled him out. "Unfortunately for you, there aren't that many places to hide."

"House, please don't hurt—"

House slapped him. "Too late for begging." Chase'ss body fell on the bed faced down, increasing the crushing pain on his rib injury intensify. Tears flowed down his face as he tried to try them off with the bed sheets. Chase was faced down. He refused to turn his body around or say anything—he just lied there, shaking miserably at the anticipation at what his lover might do to him next.

He felt House's hand roam the back of his body. They rubbed his torso and made the way to the back of his neck. Suddenly, House grabbed his hair with a deadly grip.

"Your hair…" House said. He let go and Chase could hear him walking away.

He heard nothing but the shuffling of House's feet. He didn't hear the cling of the House's belt or the squeak of the bed. Chase finally decided to turn around when another sound caught his attention. It was the sound of water running. House came out momentarily later and looked at Chase.

"Take off your clothes."

It was something Chase had done to House many times—there was nothing to be embarrassed about. After all, the many bruises and welts in his skin were caused by his lover. What scared him was how he'd further embellish his flesh and how painful it would be this time. The fear was so great that he couldn't obey House. He just laid there and stared.

"I said, take 'em off!" House snapped.

Another moment of silence. Chase still couldn't bring himself to do it.

"Fine," House said in a tone that was suddenly too calm. "Keep 'em on."

House stormed up to Chase. When he was angry, his limp was barely noticeable…and he seemed to be a lot stronger.

He, with one hand, dragged Chase onto his feet and into the bathroom. It didn't help that Chase had not put up a struggle at all. House's pull on Chase's arm resulted in a painful popping of his shoulder. Before Chase could comprehend what the sound of running water came from, House threw him into the tub. It was then that he realized that it was filled with ice cold water. House had kept it on their purposefully. He made no attempt to mix the two temperatures and now as Chase struggled to get out, House held his body down, the heaviness from his clothes adding to the multiple downward forces acting on his body.

The freezing cold water felt like a million needles boring their way through his skin—into his bones. Naturally his body shuddered uncontrollably and his rapidly forming tears felt hot against his drenched skin. The apartment wasn't as big as others but the bathtub was big enough for his whole body length. House had it custom made for his leg.

Chase repeatedly struggled and fought the pain of his damaged ribs more than House. Gripping his hair again, House shoved Chase's body into the water. "Stay still," House commanded. When Chase refused to comply out of panic, House would dip his head into the water again and again.

The most frightening thing about it was the eye contact that House kept with him the whole entire time. It was like House loved to watch Chase's struggle for air—it seemed to give him an adrenaline rush. Chase's eyes, now stung with the freezing temperature of the water but didn't shut for two reasons—the first being the shock he had received while staring into House's menacing eyes while he wore a small smile on his face. The second was that he was starting to see red. Every time his head dipped back into the water he would see House's refracted reflection surrounded by red. Chase feared that if he closed his eyes, he would lose consciousness.

House let up for a while, stopping to get something from the other room. As Chase waited he felt warmness trickling down the back of his neck. When he touched the area he found out why he was seeing red. He was bleeding. The back of his head had been impacted on the bottom of the tub so many times that he started to bleed. He hadn't felt it because the freezing temperature of the water, which was now tainted with the color of crimson, had numbed it. But now that the upper half of his body was out of the water for the time being; he began to panic.

House returned to the bathroom. Chase hadn't looked yet, but he could tell that he was standing right next to him because of the way his warm body heat contrasted to Chase's. House touched his hair. He didn't grab it this time—he just touched. Right at the moment that Chase was about to be comforted by this he heard a snip. He felt a small tickle on his shoulder. Chase looked to see that it was a chunk of his hair. Another chunk fell off with another snip. House was cutting his hair.

Upon realizing this, Chase screamed and let out the pain the whole situation had given him. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry House please forgive me!" Chase pleaded in pain. He was pleading as his chest heaved in pain. Chase couldn't tell if it was because of the lack of air or his panic. "Please don't!"

"Please don't do what?" House asked in fake confusion. "Oh you mean this?" He cut off another huge chunk of Chase's hair.

"House…" Chase groaned in his arms. Even screaming hurt his ribs.

Chase grabbed at clutches of his hair that fell off his head. They fell in his arm with abundance and Chase shook as he looked at them. Chase cried…he wept. He sobbed loudly.

"Don't worry," House said. "It won't change the way I look at you." House continued shaving. "Besides, I **never** liked your hair this length."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Chase cried as he felt more chunks fall onto his shoulders and down his back.

"I know you are." Another snip came as House continued disturbingly nonchalant. "But I have to do this to make sure that you won't do it again."

* * *

That night, Wilson decided to call Chase again.

"Stop calling!"

Wilson froze once he heard the words. There was so many things that he wanted to ask. "Chase?"

"Go away!" Chase screamed on the phone. "What do you want from me?"

"I was checking to see if you were okay and—." Wilson had attempted to say.

"Yeah well you only make things worse! Can't you take a hint that if I don't pick up I didn't want to talk to you?"

"Why are you saying this? Is House making you say this?" Wilson basically breathed through the phone through his attempts to hold back the fact that the man was starting to weep.

"Just leave me alone! You're just mad because you have no one to be happy with!"

He didn't know if Chase truly meant what he was saying but Wilson felt the sting. "Chase…"

"Never call again!" And with that Wilson heard the click of the phone conversation going off.


	9. Chapter 9

Just as usual, Chase didn't go to work. It was unfortunate to see him like this—Robert Chase huddled against himself on the bed in which he and House slept, shivering. He could have gotten up to turn up the thermostat. He could have wrapped his body in blankets but he hadn't.

He knew he had to go to work. House hadn't strapped him down like he had the past few days or even beaten him that morning, but the bruises had spread to his lower arms and neck. He just couldn't handle the stares and questions he would have received. He was very well known among House's group and they would have noticed instantly and asked. Well…maybe not Foreman. But Cameron would have kept asking before Chase was forced to tell her. He felt an urge to tell her whenever he saw her. Whenever he felt his phone vibrate against his skin.

He kept his phone next to him. He didn't know why he did but it may have been because it made him feel less lonely. The apartment made no sounds but the whirling of the ceiling fan and constant cynosure chatter from the tv that rarely let up.

He left it on not only for the sense of loneliness but for his peace of mind. He couldn't think straight at all. It was as if the thoughts in his mind were starting to play tricks on him. The smallest sounds made him jump with the fear that it was House's tirade of anger once again. He remembered it as being one of the worst fears he had ever had in his life—body shoved against the door with the futile attempts of trying to make House stay outside of the boundaries of the bedroom.

He had not slept in a few days. Every time he did he was plagued with constant nightmares of being drowned in the tub. They keep getting worse, bending reality into disturbing unrealistic outcomes. He dreamt of House peeling away at his skin because Wilson had touched it. He dreamt about House chasing him through the apartment slowly, cane trailing behind him laced with sharp spikes.

He was frightened by every movement House made. He would either come up to Chase, caressing his shivering form or House would beat him suddenly and without warning. House's mind was a lock that Chase couldn't find the key to. His act of making his usual grin or nonchalant expression was equally frightening. Thinking back, he felt that he should have felt this way the first time House went too far. But he hadn't expected to know what House's next move would be—nor did he expect him to cut his hair of all things. Or beat him with a cane. Or sprain his ribs.

He had no way of knowing.

But he wondered. Did it satisfy House to see him like this—cold and bare in every sense of the word?

Well he had accomplished his goal. Chase was sure not to talk to Wilson again. Because now Robert Chase felt undeserving of the comfort of thinking optimistically because he knew that he had chased away his last hope of ever feeling sanguine again.

He thought back to what he had said to Wilson in his fit of anger. What hurt most was the fact that Wilson's reaction wasn't in any way that he expected. He didn't hear Wilson shout back. He didn't hear Wilson cry. Chase had just hung up, leaving him to imagine what his reaction actually was. Maybe he had given up on talking to Chase. After all, he hadn't called back like he usually would.

Was what House said about Wilson true? Did Wilson really like Chase in that manner? Maybe that was why he was being so overprotective and controlling. But there was a difference between the two. House didn't care if Chase smiled. He cared that Chase obeyed. He cared if Chase kept his mouth shut. He doubted that Gregory House would have ever made him breakfast or help him if he was disoriented.

He thought about this as he shivered at his newly made bald scalp pulsing with the cold air making contact with it. His hair grew back fast fortunately. But something stopped his breath as it came out…what was stopping House from cutting it again? He could no longer control what was happening to his body.

House owned him. The multiplying welts on his arms House had created when he beat him with his cane was perfect evidence for it. Every movement he made to get ready for the next day of work was met with the reminder of what had happened to him. And to avoid it he had to avoid Wilson. He had to stay far away from him. He didn't want to be in pain anymore.

For once, Wilson had a quite content dream. It wasn't one likely to happen but it made him smile subconsciously until the reality of the conscious world made it slowly fade away.

Chase wasn't beside him like he had imagined just a few moments ago. This justified the constant fixation that Wilson had told himself many times before—he really hated dreaming.

Wilson was awake now. He was wide awake and walking to his office like he did every day. However, Wilson was unaware of what he was doing—his movements nothing but a subconscious method that was currently being used in order for him to make it through the day. He had to go through the day like this, otherwise his emotion would take over and he would not be able to work properly.

He had to make himself stop thinking. He had to make himself remove the repetition of the words that taunted his mind so wickedly. The words that Chase had yelled to him the other night.

There had to be a reason why he said that to him. Chase wasn't one to react in that manner. Then again, what did he know about Chase? He thought that the two of them had a connection regardless of whether Chase was with House or not. Maybe he had been wrong about that all along. Maybe it was his mind drugged up on passion that made him think that way instead of facing the reality.

Whenever he tried to ignore the subject it came back instantly, scratching at his skull.

Wilson had thought back to things that had preceded the angry reply. Chase and him drank beers, Chase crashed at his apartment, they had breakfast. Every single time they spent together, Chase had seemed to be holding something back but he hid it for the sake of talking to Wilson. Wilson wondered. Was it possible that Chase had put on an act the whole time? Wilson finalized on a quick conclusion. No. It must have been House.

Regardless, Wilson was not optimistic about the day. With the future expected relief that came from seeing that Chase was okay and looking well at work came the stinging reality that Chase wouldn't come and talk to him and warm him with his charming smile.

The day had went by slow and tedious. He had to do his work without any complaints. Cuddy had given him extra hours for "slacking off." It was as if the world was going out of its way for his misery.

Throughout the day, he had barely seen any sign of Chase, though he caught glimpses of House around the building. Every time he saw the other gentleman, his skin crawled. It didn't help that House seemed to always knew when Wilson looked at him, craning his neck slowly to turn to look at the male. Even from the long displacement between their locations, Wilson could see the grin pasted on his face. House knew what he was thinking. House knew that he was thinking of how he had harmed Chase. He loved it. He loved every moment of it.

Wilson would hurry up and look away before he was faced with the icy stare for too long. He had to stop himself from feeling intimidated by him.

His feeling of dread from looking at House did not compare to that of when he was first saw Chase again after the first few days of his absence. Wilson saw him—the pale figure of the man he cared so much for. His appearance mad Wilson's heart sink.

Chase was even thinner than the last encounter they had made, eyes sunken in the bags that were under them. What had frightened Wilson as the fact that he could tell that he looked like such a way even though the distance was very great. House's abuse was illuminated more than his usual bright features. But there was something else that threw Wilson off. Chase's hair. His hair…

Wilson found himself following the blonde. Even though he knew that he was probably the last person Chase would want to talk to at that particular moment. It seemed like something that could only be solved by him. Regardless of what Chase had said the couple of nights ago, he knew that he was in dire need of help.

"Wilson?" It was then that he realized that one of the nurses in the building had walked up to him to sign something for a report of something he hadn't paid attention. "Everything okay?" She asked, noticing him spacing out.

Wilson looked at her. "Yeah…" he said. "I'm sorry what do you need again?"

"I just need you to sign this for—."

Wilson took the paper out of her hand, signing it absentmindedly with no need of an explanation. He had a much bigger concern in his mind. He made sure he hadn't lost the direction or lost sight of where Chase was headed.

"Please explain it to me later." Wilson tried to say in a voice that didn't reflect his eagerness.

"Oh…okay."

Wilson immediately went for the direction that Chase had gone.

By the time he had reached the hallway, Chase had already disappeared into one of the rooms. It was the middle of the day so the hospital hallways weren't as crowded as he expected them to be.

Searching through the long hallway, Wilson stopped by multiple rooms in an attempt to find him.

He had finally tried the last room, hoping to find Chase inside the room.

He was shocked at what stood before him as he walked in. Chase looked even worse up close.

"Chase…" he said to himself more than to him.

Wilson couldn't believe it. House had single handedly destroyed everything he loved about Chase. His outgoing personality, which was now turned into one that was similar to an introvert. His shoulder length blonde hair now cut into a buzz. His nice skin now pale and dry.

"Ye—?" Chase was about to turn to answer but stopped dead in his movements when he saw Wilson's face. He pursed his lips and quickly returned to his work. He was doing a lab testing for one of his patience.

"What are you doing here?" Wilson asked the first question that came into mind.

"Doing extra lab work. Missed too many days." Chase said, not once looking up at Wilson. He spoke quietly but clearly. His words weren't slurred. He just didn't put any extra effort into talking.

It was obvious that Chase didn't want him there. This made him shift his feet slightly in discomfort. "What… happened to your hair?"

"Just got a haircut Wilson. S'Perfectly normal thing for people to do." His comments, though dogmatic, provided the perfect excuse for him to avoid the subject.

Chase wanting to do such a drastic change was something that didn't seem plausible.

And that's what he needed to find out.

"Chase since when—."

"I…" Chase muttered. "Told you not to talk to me anymore." He squeezed his hands tighter around the knob of the telescope he was working with, neck tensing up even further.

"I know." Wilson closed his eyes for a moment from the sting of remembering those words. He quickly regained his composure when he opened them to look into Chase's confused blue eyes. He knew then for sure, that there was no way that Chase could have been grave about his statement. "I…I know why you said Chase. But…" He paused. "I also know that you didn't mean it."

"What are you talking about?" Chase asked in shock of Wilson's statement.

"I don't know why you said it Chase. But I know you didn't mean it."

Wilson closed in on Chase whose hands were noticeably shaking as he struggled to complete the lab while ignoring Wilson at the same time. Wilson had to get to him before he was shut out once again.

"Chase…" Wilson said his name in hopes of getting a reply.

"Wilson just leave me alone," Chase whined, putting down the lab materials abruptly as he turned to look at Wilson, eyes noticeably more watery than before; his bottom lip was trembling and it looked like it caused him great physical pain in order to say that. He set down all of the equipment.

"You're in a lot of pain." Wilson didn't have to ask. He already knew. He had known for a long time.

Chase looked up at Wilson in annoyance before keeping up with his work.

"Chase," Wilson said. "Tell me what's wrong with you."

Wilson gripped Chase's wrist, wincing at the blonde's scream as he did so. However, he didn't let go. He didn't want to waste another opportunity of helping him. "Please."

He sounded desperate. He sounded pathetic. He sounded like a frightened child. But Wilson didn't care. He was worried about Chase, not his ego.

Chase looked back at Wilson. His face showed surprise momentarily before switching back to anger. Wilson grip was tight again. He hadn't realized this until he felt Chase's arm tremble with the action. He let up his grip but made it apparent that he wasn't going to let go. He sighed, letting go of pent up stress that built up in his guts. "Just tell me."

His voice shook.

Chase's expression suddenly changed. It relaxed into one of dread. He had given up on trying to hide whatever it was he had been desperately trying to hide. This wasn't really what Wilson wanted to receive a reaction. He wanted Chase to tell him willingly. He didn't want to force it upon him.

Now Chase looked in even worse shape. "Fine." He whispered, smiling with no trace of humour in it, eyes lighting up in despair. "Fine! You really want to know?" Chase yelled out again. In one fluid motion, Chase took off his jacket. Wilson stood back and watched in confusion, letting go of his wrist completely.

He then took off his shirt, never taking his eyes away from Wilson as he did so, eyes sparkling with a threatening gaze. "Happy?!"

Wilson stood there in shock. He felt his heart sank when he saw a repetitive pattern of black, blue, purple, gray throughout his torso. Chase's wrists were rubbed raw, a sickening shade of blood red and purple. It made Wilson feel even guiltier for gripping them so tight? Worst of all, he looked deathly frail, a big bruise covering his chest area. Chase's pronounced bones had jutted out more.

Wilson noticed that Chase was breathing hard once again and now that he was shirtless, he could see why.

"How did this happen? Your chest! House did this didn't he?" Wilson demanded the answer through gritted teeth.

"Stop! It doesn't matter anymore," Chase choked out. "I already gave you the answer that you wanted so stop asking and leave it alone!"

"Chase…if House is hurting you like this then you—."

"Don't say it," Chase suddenly pleaded. His standoffish attitude had subsided with his new emotion. "don't say it, please."

Wilson sighed. "Chase…you can't stay with him if he keeps treating you like this."

Chase looked down, biting his bottom lip, then looked up quickly. "Why…why do you care so much?" Chase asked hesitantly. His eyes twitch as tears streamed down his face. Wilson knew that it was a legit question. Chase wasn't used to sympathy.

It hurt him to see Chase like this. It hurt him to know that someone that meant so much to him felt insignificant to the point where he felt that he wasn't worthy of being cared about. It disturbed Wilson the more to think that Chase found sympathy as an abstract concept. He wanted to tell him. Oh How wrong he was. Chase was more than precious to be noticed by everyone.

"Because…" Wilson trailed off. He didn't know how to say it.

Wilson felt a strong bond with Chase. Wilson wasn't like all the other nurses who just thought that Chase was nice eye candy. Even though he was. And even as the blonde man looked at him with dark circles under his eyes and pale skin, he still glowed to Wilson. There was something about his personality that Wilson couldn't forget no matter how much House tried to block it away from the rest of the world.

He remembered it ever since the first time they met; the exact moment that Chase walked into his room with a confused expression. The first few days that they hung out together and Wilson introduced Chase to how things work in the hospital. They talked about things that he wasn't used to talking about. Wilson remembered seeing how hard working and intelligent he was especially coming from his background.

Then he remembered introducing him to House and his heart sank. This was his entire fault. If he had only admitted his feelings to the Aussie a long time ago, he would never have gone through this.

So as the blonde stared at him in lost confusion He decided to go with the words that he's wanted to tell chase for the past few weeks. "Because I love you."

Chase said nothing. He just stared. He stopped struggling however.

Wilson took this as a cue to continue before Chase fought against him again.

"I…I love you. I've always loved you." Wilson admitted, heart pounding faster. He breathed out the words, feeling the life drain out of him while he did so. He had never been so up front with his feelings in his life. Even if he had gotten to him before House, he wouldn't have said his feelings right away.

"And I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you…that House…"

He no longer knew what to say. At first he was confident about what he was going to say but Chase's blank stare made him lose it quick. Even though he hadn't expected Chase to say he loved him back, he expected him to at least say…something.

Then Chase smiled; it was weak but it was a smile.

Then it soon became apparent as to Wilson why Chase hadn't replied to him. When the blonde opened his mouth to speak, blood trickled out of his mouth. His face turned into one that expressed fear. He was about to speak but he coughed, throwing up the blood that was now profusely flowing everywhere.

"Chase?" Wilson whispered

Wilson walked up to Chase, holding him by the shoulders, looking into his eyes when the man's body threatened to collapse. He brought his hand up to his face, trying to make him focus. Blood still came out of his mouth at an alarming rate and he watched as Chase gagged and gurgled in an attempt to take in some oxygen. Chase was looking at him now, eyes wide with alertness and body thrashing in panic.

"Chase?" he screamed.

The Aussie fell in front of him, only managing to be caught by Wilson moments before he hit the ground, his stare becoming glassy as Wilson gazed into it.


End file.
